


LA Ballet (part one)

by Sexwithazza



Category: Scomiche - Fandom, Superfruit
Genre: M/M, Pentatonix - Freeform, Scomiche, YouTubers - Freeform, kavi - Freeform, superfruit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:59:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexwithazza/pseuds/Sexwithazza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitch Grassi is a famous ballet dancer whose instructor makes him want to disappear. Then, he meets Scott.</p>
<p>WARNING: RAPE AND PAST ABUSE. The next part will be up soon, depending on the feedback I receive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LA Ballet (part one)

**Author's Note:**

> This story might not be suitable for all readers. It includes triggers, including mentions of rape and possibly some graphic scenes. Please do not read if you are sensitive to this matter. If you need someone to talk to, please do not hesitate to message me. ENJOY!

“Mitch, again!” George shouted from his place on the other side of the room. His words echoed off the white walls. “You’re performing in front of everyone tomorrow and I refuse to let you screw this up. It’s my name you’re representing and I won’t look like a fool in front of them!”

Mitch let his head hang down for only a moment before focusing again on his reflection staring back. He spread his feet just as George had taught him on-so-many years ago when he was just beginning. His father had tried to push him into soccer or basketball or anything other than dance. His mother had eventually convinced him that it would be a good thing and they signed him up with George’s studio that same day. He had started not knowing a single thing about ballet and know George’s company is one of the most sought after companies in America because of Mitch. He plays small roles in movies and shows and eventually scored his own episode on LA Ballet. That’s why George has been pushing him so hard for the past few months. Their episode is being recorded in just a few dances and tomorrow their showing the dance to the producers. 

The music started and Mitch let himself go. Ballet is a controlled form a dancing but Mitch’s body has a mind of his own as he dances across the wooden floor. He catches glimpses of himself in the mirror covered wall every few seconds. His arms end above his head and George is clapping from somewhere in the room. 

“Don’t let my applause go to your head! You still messed up the third turn and by the second sequence you were breathing too hard to let off the calm vibe I wanted. It was a little better than last time but I want to run through it again before I let you go,” George said and threw their shared water bottle his way. 

Mitch caught it and took a long drink. He couldn’t drink too much because then his stomach would start hurting halfway through the routine. George walked over, putting his hand between Mitch’s shoulder blades. 

“If you get it perfectly this time, I’ll reward you later,” his instructor whispered in his ear. 

Mitch’s heart clenched at the words. He hated the feeling of George’s beard against his temple and the spit that transferred onto the shell of his ear when George licked his way down to Mitch’s neck. He hated George. When Mitch first started at the studio, he was only eight. When Mitch turned fourteen, George had the kids over to his house for a bonding session. Mitch was part of a group at first and they had a performance a few weeks after that, which they won. But when Mitch got to George’s, no one else was there and he claimed that Mitch was just early. Of course, he knew it wasn’t true because Mitch’s mom had rushed to get him there on time and didn’t succeed, according to her. Then, Mitch had ended up in George’s room. Mitch’s fourteen-year-old self wasn’t strong enough to fight George off and he wasn’t sure he would have even if he could. After five years, Mitch has learned what George likes and it wraps up a lot faster than it used to. 

“I’ll do better. I promise I won’t disappoint you,” Mitch whispered, staring at the ground he’s become so familiar with by now. 

“You never do, baby,” George whispered back, now turning away to turn the music back on. “Now show me!”

 

===

 

Later that night, Mitch’s hands are still tied to the bedposts. George is getting a glass of water from the kitchen and Mitch is wishing he was anywhere but here. He didn’t want to see George’s triumphant looks or sweaty body pulling him in to cuddle. Mitch wanted to go to his apartment and curl up in his own bed and sleep. He wanted to sleep forever really. He wanted anyone’s life besides for his own. George means fame and success and more money than he already has. But George also means regret. Mitch has never known anything besides for George and his controlling nature. 

“Do you want me to untie you, baby?” 

Mitch’s heart lurched at the sound of his instructor coming back from the kitchen. He knows that George is turned on by begging so Mitch keeps his mouth shut or else it might mean another round. Even if that means he’s tied up for another hour, he still keeps quiet. 

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” George asks, finally untying his wrists.

Mitch lets them fall heavily against the mattress and curls his body around his hands to protect them. “Can I please go home now?” he whispers.

He hears George sigh and knows he’s messed up. He’s acting ungrateful like always. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just my feet hurt and I wanted to soak for a while in my tub. Your house doesn’t have a tub,” he explains, using the only excuse he’s ever found to work.

George rolls away from him and lights a cig from the pack on his nightstand. “Whatever. Just be ready for tomorrow. You know what will happen if you screw this opportunity up.”

===

 

Finally, Mitch is out of the house. It’s like a weight is lifted off his shoulder and his heart doesn’t feel as heavy. He hates it. He hates everything. He wraps his scarf around his neck and wishes he could disappear altogether. Before he has the chance to move the scarf from his eyes where the wind had knocked it, he knocked fully into someone and fell backwards against the sidewalk. It makes his hands worse even more where there are already red marks around his wrist.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” a deep voice asked.

Mitch looked up and nodded quickly. He tries to stand up but his wrist gives out. A small whimper escapes his mouth before he falls back down. The guy reaches down and puts both hands under Mitch’s shoulder. He flinches slightly but allows himself be pulled up into a standing position. 

“Did that just happen or…” the guy asked, pointing at the marks on his wrists.

Mitch really wanted to disappear now. He should have been paying attention to where he was going. Maybe he’d already be home and in his bed by now. 

“Um, no,” is what he can finally say. He walks past the stranger and down the sidewalk again. 

“I’m Scott by the way,” the guy, Scott, says who seems to be following him.

Mitch is actually kind of surprised that this guy doesn’t know him. He’s a celebrity, especially in LA, even if he was kind of pushed into the scene against his will. 

“Why are you following me?” Mitch asks, arms folded over his chest protectively. 

“Oh, sorry. I just wanted to, um, make sure you were okay. You seem to be out of it. I was just making sure you made it home without passing out or anything,” Scott said. 

He had stopped walking as he spoke but Mitch hadn’t. Just as Mitch turned back toward his apartment and away from Scott, someone grabbed his arm. He jumped at the contact. The young girl quickly withdrew her hand and looked scared. 

“I’m sorry. I just wanted a picture with you. You’re my favorite dancer ever. I have all of your posters in my room,” she said and held up her phone. Mitch plastered a smile on his face and thanked her before heading off again. 

“Of course I managed to knock down a celebrity,” Scott said, knocking himself on the forehead. 

“Do you feel guilty or something because it’s really not that big of a deal,” Mitch said.

“Um, okay. I just… Yeah, okay. Have a good night then,” he said shyly. He scratched the back of his neck, must be a nervous tick, and turned away. Mitch rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Do you want to come inside? I would prefer you leave whatever murderous tendencies you have out here,” Mitch said, nodding the doorman of his building. “He’s with me, John.”

Mitch glanced back at Scott who was standing at the bottom on the stairs. He smirked, “You coming or what?”


End file.
